Torn Apart
by Novoux
Summary: They need to show Shizuo, the puppy dog, who Izaya really is. Shizaya; trigger warning.


From where Izaya lies on the ground, ass high up in the air and his hand bound behind his back, he sees his boyfriend bound to a chair, drugged beyond coherency.

Watching him, for an extra sting to this sort of occasion.

No warning, not much of a reason (maybe Izaya could think of a few, but not when his mind is blank and every thought has been forced to the back of his mind) besides watching Shizuo's eyes on him, a slender hand forcing his eyelids open and his head to stare at the mess Izaya has become in a short amount of time. His clothes lie in tatters of blood and semen on the floor, sticking to his knees as he wobbles with his balance hanging on a dick shoved down his throat.

The humor isn't here this time. His boyfriend watches, helplessly, Izaya being stuffed full of a hard erection at his mouth as toys are shoved in his ass. Like a little show, the ringleader mentions earlier, for Shizuo to show him _exactly_ who he's involved himself with. And with the inevitable of fingers squeezing the pale skin of his bottom and cupping his cheeks with tight, bleeding grabs, Izaya would prefer that his boyfriend wouldn't be here, watching with a gag in his mouth and his eyes nearly stapled open, because here these idiots are serious about what they plan to do.

Inside his chest, away from the dull buzzing of the vibrator and the shift of anal beads buzzing against him, Izaya feels a sort of emptiness, slowly bleeding out on the floor as more and more cock shoves itself down his throat without mercy. A hand in his hair yanks hard, tugging and pulling and if the whimper echoing in the air around them is from him then it's best to forget about it. After all, between making the sounds that come from gagging and too many painful sensations all at once, it's hard enough to focus on Shizuo, watching his boyfriend as a type of self-torture he hasn't had the time to practice on.

The vibrator rips out of him, no lube except semen from before, rubbing in his crack until the white liquid drips from him and stains his skin with the filth it is. He can feel it coming back again, as the hand tightens in his hair to the point where he's sure he can feel his scalp bleeding from how rough the man's hands grasp him. It's only seconds before a choked low groan slithers into his ears, wet and slimy as the dick in his mouth convulses with tight spasms, shooting hot come down his throat.

That is, until the bastard pulls out and squirts in Izaya's eyes, blinding him when he can't make any noise, anything to show how much it hurts as fingernails scrape inside of him, scratching at his prostate and ripping through his insides with raging pain. The woman holding Shizuo snaps his jaw, wiping saliva from his drooling mouth and laughs with a screeching cackle, resounding in Izaya's ears when his eyes can't come away from his boyfriend.

None of them can see the expression in his eyes and he doubts Shizuo can register much of what's going on. They drugged him with too much at once, turning him into a human vegetable and if he survives it then it'll be a surprise for them both. Shizuo may be strong, but Izaya doubts drugs like this can't kill him with how much his boyfriend has been forced to overdose on.

"Why don't you make some noise, Orihara-kun?" The one behind him slaps at his ass, grabbing it angrily as the semen drips down his face and hair, eliciting delighted laughter from the man in front. They've got video cameras, one shoved in his face promising humiliation for a lifetime. And that's fine, it's completely okay because it doesn't matter except for one person watching across from him, forced by the hand of revenge and greed.

Without warning a dick pushes inside of Izaya, tearing him open raw and something slips over his hole, aching as his muscles scream with the tearing and rips of fissures. It feels like soap, he recognizes the slime with dull anguish, feeling the burn as it seeps inside and a fire sets itself over and over again.

It _hurts._

From where Shizuo's watching, Izaya blinks through reactionary tears, thinking maybe he sees something he shouldn't and he turns his head away, lowering it as the come in his eyes continues to burn and his heart pulses with a screaming beat, erratic and loud as it slams in his ears. Fucking him raw like this, gripping tightly onto the cock inside of him that's too hard, too rough, and devouring him from the inside out.

Cuts ranging in depth and length all over his body provide the extra stretch and sting, dripping as his skin covers itself in dark red, only one light bulb flickering in the dark room to be the source of light. Hands around him turn into knives that keep slashing in, drawing more and making designs that show Izaya's _boytoy_ who the informant belongs to.

Just as Izaya thinks the agonizingly slow thrusts covering the erection inside him in blood come to be bearable, in a morbid way he may as well add, the sudden thrust forward that slaps balls to his ass and tears him open proves him wrong.

The scream that pierces his throat echoes in his ears, mutilating the soft flesh inside rotting with come and the cries that tear themselves out with each move inside of him. Every beat, breath, sting, push and pull and thudding pulse rocks into his core, amplified as it echoes through his body like a loudspeaker and it keeps vibrating, his heart ready to give up from pounding too fast and he can't breathe, but it's not like it matters.

As long as the thrusts continue he screams, a knife held to his throat in this game of _scream or die in front of your pretty boyfriend you faggot_ and Izaya does as told, since he's a quick learner and when the knife moves to Shizuo's skin, skinning him alive and eliciting the soft noises of hiccups from him, he does as commanded.

Shizuo's eyes sting as they brighten in the light where only Izaya can see, focused on pain and his eyes dark, black and salty and burning with hellfire that won't quell itself in the drink of the saltwater streaming from his eyes. In soft trails they plop onto the knife drawing on his cheeks, blood flowing in rivulets as calm as the brown eyes he remembers in the back of his subconscious overflowing with too much sensation to keep himself standing. It's too bad, really, how he falls to the ground and he hears the laughter shriek in his ears because he's really a class act.

More, faster and harder and so painful and tight with bloody lubricant he can feel himself grow tight with too many muscles pulling and squeezing tight. He can feel the urge to curl into a ball, hide himself away from the shame of his torture caught on camera, ready to use as blackmail without any bribery. Just pure fun, humiliation play with the informant and his puppy dog. The feeling of Shizuo's eyes on him swallows him whole, harder than the realization of where he is and what he's done to make his Shizuo deserve this as he watches the shame leak from each and every pore.

Several thrusts left, each one slamming and ringing and swollen as it knots itself inside of him, pulling and drawing tighter as his ass turns a swollen red from slaps of hands imprinting in bruises. It's so tight, it burns and spits and roasts him in flames, laughter in the air with the scent of rotting flesh set aflame with the eyes of one and only to judge him, drugged to the point of no tomorrow.

Nothing to apologize for.

The loudest cry that shatters his ears comes from the same throat, Shizuo's eyes on him Shizuo on him _Shizuo under him_ while he's fucked from behind, scraping against ropes and chafing his flaky skin peeling away in large chunks.

Come bursts inside of him, blackening the world and Shizuo is cold and wet and filled with silence, that's all that can be offered as the world darkens with the foot crushing his head into the metal of the chair in between his boyfriend's thighs.

Not his boyfriend, he reprimands himself.

Not anymore.

Not _anything._

And if he recalls the taste of his own blood on another's dick, then the day ends too soon with black spots and hiccups and tasting himself, in all the wrong ways. They laugh, slam his head and he sucks the cock of his blood clean, shiny with saliva and come and the sticky sour taste of his blood. _  
_

He can't bring himself to look at Shizuo anymore. _  
_

If he wakes next time it must be a dream, filled with sweat and shame and seedlings of something foul, something monstrous and rotten and shying away from the beginnings of darkness slipped inside his ribcage, tucked away.

That's how it's always been, maybe not this quiet and not in the smell of antiseptic and copper mixing in iron.

Or the arms around him, shaking and gentle but shaking so badly the breeze of autumn wind would send them tumbling, the same shake and tremble of wet salty tears stinging the gash down his cheek.

"I'm s-sorry," Shizuo's voice wavers with shame, swallowed in sorrow and he's already crying. Izaya can feel it. "I'm s-so s-orry, I-Izaya."

He can feel this over everything else.

"I'm s-so…" another hiccup, loud and deafening in his ears, "s-sorry…"

He's sorry too, but Shizuo, in all his drugged slow decline into death or passing out, wouldn't understand.

Instead, Izaya nods against the one he's lost for sure, allowing the trail of wetness to bleed into the hand cupping his face.

"Don't cry," Izaya rasps in the ghost of a whisper, his lips pursing to press a kiss to Shizuo's head until he realizes where they've been. "D-Don't c-cry, Sh-Shizu-chan…"

The quiet sounds of crying can't convince him to believe his own words.

* * *

 _This is more my element, I'm really bad at writing fluff. Oh well, I enjoyed this prompt quite a bit._

 _Thank you for reading._


End file.
